


The mechanics of Ikea furniture

by winter_writes



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autistic Entrapta (She-Ra), Canon Autistic Character, Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Dancing, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Mild Angst, Modern Era, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Princess Prom (She-Ra), Religious Cults, Tenderness, Touching, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_writes/pseuds/winter_writes
Summary: Hordak has just got free of his father’s cult. He’s got his own apartment, and he’s going to start living his life.The woman in the apartment opposite is kind of cute.Based off the prompt: “It’s like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an Ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute.”
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 408





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired by a post on dailyau.tumblr.com, submitted by stardust-sketcher:  
> "Its like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute"

Building a life wasn’t easy. 

He’d always known that it would be hard. He’d never been allowed to make decisions for himself before. The simple act of deciding what kind of sofa he was going to have in his living room had been both ridiculously intimidating and incredibly freeing. 

Hordak stood, stretched, sat down on the aforementioned sofa, and thought over the events that had led him to a reasonably-sized apartment in midtown. 

* 

As the only son of Horde Prime, expectations had been laden on him from birth. Horde Prime, leader and founder of the Horde cult, considered himself immortal, but having a son running around gave him something of an ego-boost, so he named Hordak his heir even though he never thought he would die. 

Hordak had never known his mother. She’d died in childbirth, and some nights he would lie awake and wonder if things would have been different with her around. If she would have loved him in a way that his father didn’t. 

He’d spent his childhood the way all the other children in the cult had: attending the church where his father preached, going to lessons, and studying hard. As the only son of Prime, he had to live up to that legacy every day. 

He had, as well. Perfect grades, an excellent memory for Prime’s sermons, and wholehearted dedication to his father’s teachings. 

But when he was seventeen, disaster struck. The kind of disaster that came with multiple diagnoses, and braces on his back, arms, and legs. The kind of disaster that meant any Horde member who looked at him knew that he was weak. Defective. 

His father had barely looked at him for weeks, until he’d thrown himself at Prime’s feet and begged an opportunity to make it right. 

“Let me study,” he’d cried, looking up at his father through the tears. His legs had been aching from the position where he knelt, but he’d stayed down. “I’ll find a way to fix myself, I promise.” 

He had excelled at college, his professors stunned by his determination. Far faster than most people would have done it, he had a PhD in genetics and his father was funding his research into the possibility of curing himself. 

Except that he couldn’t do it. No matter what he tried, no matter how many experiments he ran, he couldn’t find an effective treatment. 

He knew, on an intellectual level, that curing himself was impossible. He’d known it for years. But he hadn’t been able to admit it to himself, because if he couldn’t find a cure then he’d never be worthy in his father’s eyes. 

Sometime around that time, after one of his father’s beatings, Hordak had given himself a name. Aside from Horde Prime, nobody in the Horde cult was allowed to have a name. There was a name on Hordak’s birth certificate, and a name on his degree, but he’d never been permitted to use it, and it had never felt like his own. But somehow, he’d found another name. Occasionally, late at night, he would lie in bed and whisper to himself: “My name is Hordak.” 

Other days, he hated himself for so traitorously giving himself a name, and he begged his father for a purification ritual. Horde Prime had never asked why. He was only too glad to perform the ritual for his oh-so-defective son. 

The ritual went like so: 

First, Horde Prime would stand up in front of the congregation and declare that Hordak had asked to be purified. 

Next, Hordak would beg his father for the ritual to happen. Prime would graciously grant his request. 

Then the ritual proper began. It started with the brandings. 

A circle of white-hot metal, a little bigger than a coin, would be pressed against his flesh. 

The back of his neck. Two places on his upper spine. Against each shoulder blade. Twice on each side of his torso, just above where his ribcage stopped. The inside of his elbows. 

He shuddered at the memory. 

It was acceptable to scream during the branding. Hordak had never seen anyone be purified without screaming. 

Then, he would step into the pool. Horde Prime claimed that it was holy water, but Hordak knew that the water was mixed with antiseptic to prevent infection from the burns, which was why it stung so much. 

He’d found out about the antiseptic quite by chance; Prime told everyone that the stinging sensation was the washing away of sins. 

Once he was out of the pool, he had to pretend that his memories had been erased. He was allowed to know how to speak and read and write, and he was allowed to remember the things he’d learned at university, but he wasn’t allowed to remember any connection to anyone other than Horde Prime. He was expected to begin his acquaintance with the other members of the cult anew. 

After a purification, his father would point at him, turn to the congregation, and declare that Hordak was the purest one among them. It was the only time that his father seemed even remotely proud of him. 

Hordak rubbed the back of his neck. The circular scar was still there, the mark of at least half a dozen purifications. 

But all that was over, now. It was the past. 

No matter how many times he was purified, no matter how much he hated himself, he couldn’t stop thinking of himself as Hordak. As a person with a name. 

It had been late in the evening. After a long day at the lab and a short beating from his father he’d been sore all over, but he’d taken a walk anyway, to the edge of the Horde compound. 

It was there that he’d seen two members of the Horde, a copper-skinned girl with long, messy brown hair and a blonde girl with a ponytail. They had been cutting a hole in the fence with bolt cutters. On the other side of the fence was a black boy wearying a crop top and a short girl with dyed-pink hair. 

They had all turned when they saw him approach. 

“Sisters,” he’d said, “What are you doing?” 

The brown-haired girl had raised the bolt cutters towards him, threatening. “Don’t try to stop me leaving. I’m not your sister, I have a name. I’m Catra, and I’m getting out of here.” 

His back and shoulders had been aching from his father’s belt. During the beating, Prime had briefly choked him, so his voice came out hoarse. “My name is Hordak,” he’d said. “Take me with you. Please.” 

It had been a long time in the back of the car, crammed between Adora and Catra while Glimmer drove and Bow rode shotgun. He’d felt lightheaded the whole way, his newfound freedom not quite sinking in. 

By the time they arrived at what turned out to be Glimmer’s mother’s house, his whole body had been cramping. Glimmer had let them in and he’d sat down on the sofa and hadn’t moved for about the next eleven hours. 

Angella Moon had been beside herself when she saw them. She was surprisingly motherly for the head of a taskforce dedicated to dismantling abusive cults. 

It turned out that Glimmer and Bow had reached out to Adora, and Adora and Catra had both decided to leave the Horde. Angella was going to provide them with resources to get a start in life, in return for information about the Horde’s inner workings which she hoped could be used to bring a court case against Horde Prime. She’d never dreamed that her daughter would return not only with Adora and Catra, but with the son of Horde Prime himself. 

After spending the night on Angella’s sofa (he hadn’t slept much, and at one point he’d been weeping), she’d started asking him questions. About the Horde’s inner workings and how they recruited and the purification ritual, and would Hordak be willing to testify in court? 

He was. He really was. 

At lunch, Angella had noticed the bruises on his throat. Later that day she’d taken him aside, and after a moment’s hesitation he’d stripped off his shirt to show her the rest of the bruises. After asking for his consent, she’d photographed them. 

No-one had ever asked him for any kind of permission before. 

The fact that a cult member would ask Prime for the branding during the purification ritual meant that Angella wasn’t sure if she could get a charge to stick to Prime. But beating his son? That was something more tangible. 

That, and the fact that Prime had almost certainly been laundering money added up to a nice long prison sentence. 

A month later, and police had been breaking down the gates of the Horde compound. They’d found Horde Prime trying to make his escape through a tunnel under the church, exactly where Hordak said he’d go. 

Upon examination of Prime’s documents, it turned out that he’d saved some of his money under Hordak’s birth name to avoid paying tax, which left Hordak with more money than he knew what to do with. 

So, two months before his father’s court date, here he was. 

Sitting on a sofa in his new apartment. 

Midway through his thirties, and he’d only just started his life. 

Hordak stared at the bird cage in the corner of his living room. He was somewhat tempted to pull the sheet off it and wake up Imp, his pet African Grey Parrot, just so that he could have something approaching a conversation and feel a little less alone. 

It had been different while he was staying in Angella’s house. Sure, Adora and Catra had been staying in the spare room so he’d had to sleep on the sofa bed, but he hadn’t been on his own. Even when he wasn’t giving statements about the Horde to Angella, he’d either been walking around the garden making awkward conversation with Adora, or sitting at the kitchen table while Angella’s husband, Micah, offered him some of his home baking. 

Hordak couldn’t keep doing this. Living with the Horde had been hellish, but he’d never been on his own. He needed a job. Well, he didn’t need a job, he had plenty of money. But he needed a reason to get out of the house and meet people. 

Except that leaving his flat would mean stares. 

In the Horde compound, everyone had been used to the way he looked. They stared at him because he was Prime’s disabled son, but they didn’t _stare_. 

Out here, people _stared_. Hordak knew that it was partly his fault. Once they’d got free of the Horde, he and Catra had got experimental with self-expression. She’d cut her hair short and painted her nails black. Hordak had dyed his hair a dark blue and taken to wearing black eyeshadow. It made him look less like his father. He liked that. 

In spite of the vitiligo in the middle of his face and the albino red of his eyes, Hordak had always been the spitting image of his father. 

He shook himself. The last thing he needed was to get introspective at this time of the night. 

After a day of unpacking boxes in his new apartment, his braces had rubbed his arms and legs raw, doing almost more harm than good. He pulled them off, then took off the one around his torso as well. He needed a break from them. 

He stood, and went back to the pile of wood in what was going to be his bedroom. The bed was supposed to have been delivered that morning, but it had turned up several hours late, so he was building it in the evening instead of early afternoon. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to follow the instructions. They were clear instructions. 

The problem was, as it always seemed to be, Hordak himself. The braces he wore made movement easier, but he simply wasn’t strong enough to lift the pieces of the bed when he needed to get them into position and put them together. 

He tried to pick up a length of wood, his arm protested, and he dropped it, swearing. It was even harder without the braces, but he couldn’t face strapping the unforgiving pieces of metal and plastic back on. 

He had never been permitted to swear while he was in the Horde. It was strangely freeing, so he did it a few more times. 

About a minute later, someone was ringing his doorbell. 

Hordak tensed. As illogical as it was, he felt suddenly paranoid that a member of the Horde had found him and decided to mete out some revenge on Prime’s traitorous son. 

He went over to the door slowly, partly from caution and partly because his shins had decided that they hated him. And then he remembered what he was wearing; a plain black t-shirt and a long black skirt. 

In the Horde, he’d worn the same uniform as everyone else: white and light grey and pale green. He’d hated it, and he was never going to wear those colours again. 

Now that he was free, he stuck to clothes that were dark and comfortable. Trousers were hell to put on over his leg braces and never fitted quite right, so he’d settled for skirts. His vitiligo, red eyes, and braces mean that people would be staring at him whether he wore a skirt or not, so he might as well wear what he wanted. 

But that didn’t mean that everyone was accepting of a man who wore skirts. 

He looked through the spyhole. 

The woman standing outside his door was shorter than him by at least a foot. Brown-skinned, in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was dyed purple, tied up in two pigtails. Her shirt was white, with a stain on it from some kind of dark grease, and she wore it under purple dungarees. 

Definitely not a cult member, and probably not the sort to raise an eyebrow at his skirt, either. 

Hordak opened the door. 

“Hi!” she said, “I’m Entrapta.” 

“I’m Hordak,” he said, perplexed at how friendly she seemed. A sudden wave of tiredness overtook him, and he leaned against the doorframe for support. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I was just checking that you were okay, because I heard you shouting, and I know that you only moved in today, so I wanted to make sure that everything was alright.” 

Hordak made to say that he was completely fine, but he knees gave out and the darkness rushed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Season 5, the Horde was designed to reflect modern cults, so I’ve taken the metaphor and made it overt here.
> 
> One thing I really thought about while writing this was: How can I make Hordak human? How do I get a human to look like Hordak while still being human?
> 
> Vitiligo worked for his skin discolouration, and Hordak’s voice actor is black, so I decided that Hordak would be black, with vitiligo on his face, back, and arms. Ocular albinism would give him red eyes.
> 
> The ports were more difficult to figure out, until I decided to work it into the cult aspect, making the ports burn scars developed during a ‘purification ritual’ which echoes what happened with the green pool in the show. In this fic, Hordak has been through the purification ritual a lot, and with Catra and Scorpia (who will turn up later) this has only happened once to each of them, mimicking the chips. In this fic, Adora has never gone through purification.
> 
> Obviously, the ending of this fic reflects what happened in S3E2, and we’ll continue with that in Chapter 2…
> 
> Comments and kudos = love
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not making money from this work.


	2. Chapter 2

Hordak woke panicked and gasping. His movements were restricted by a – blanket? He looked around. Someone had lain him down on the sofa and wrapped a blanket around him. 

When he remembered the previous night, he hated himself. So weak. He still remembered the first time he had collapsed, passing out at the dinner table when he was seventeen. 

The woman from last night – Entrapta – walked in from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of porridge. 

“Hey, you’re awake!” she said. “I made you breakfast. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

Hordak watched, nonplussed, as she set the bowl down on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Usually I like to eat my porridge in lots of little bowls, but you don’t have enough small bowls for that, so it’s in one regular bowl. I know that it probably makes more sense to have one bowl, but having tiny bowls is just so cute!” 

Hordak made a non-committal noise and tried to stand.

Big mistake. The whole room tilted. Entrapta caught him and lowered him back on to the sofa. 

“I do not want to talk about last night,” said Hordak. 

Entrapta started putting his braces in a neat pile next to him on the sofa. “I found these on the floor yesterday. I thought you might need them. Maybe that’s why you collapsed.” There was a note of concern in her voice. 

Hordak picked up one of the braces and began buckling it around his forearm. 

Entrapta frowned. “That doesn’t look right. It’s too short for you.” 

“I am aware of that.” 

“Why don’t you have braces that fit? They won’t be able to support your body properly.” 

“That is – you do not need to worry about that.” 

She crossed her arms. “You need better braces. Those ones aren’t the right size for you, and it’s clearly hurting you. Why don’t you have ones that are the right size?” There was a steely note of determination in her voice. Clearly she wasn’t going to let the subject drop. 

Hordak sighed. “Very well. Have you heard of the Horde cult?” 

“Oh, sure. My friend Scorpia got out of that a couple months ago.” 

Hordak nodded. “I was – I _am_ the son of Horde Prime, the leader of the Horde. When my genetic deficiencies made themselves known, he initially planned to abandon me out in the desert to die. I had become worthless to him. I begged him for mercy, and promised that I would find a way to cure myself.” He felt himself flush with shame. “I’m too tall for the normal size of adult braces.” Like his father, Hordak was upwards of six and a half feet tall and broad-shouldered, though he lacked the bulk to properly pull it off. “My father could have afforded tailor-made braces, but he thought that the ill-fitting ones gave me an incentive to find a cure.” Hordak bowed his head. “But I couldn’t cure myself. I couldn’t synthesise anything approaching an effective treatment. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I am a failure.” 

Entrapta was looking at him. No, not just looking. Examining. Hordak was about to pick up the brace for his other arm when she got there first, turning it over in her hands. “Hmm.” 

“I…” he said. 

She looked at him. “Did you think I wasn’t listening? I was listening. I – I think I could build you a better brace. I’m an engineer, I have experience with this kind of thing. Something that fits you better and gives you more support.” She straightened up. “I need to grab some tools from my apartment, I’ll be right back.” 

Hordak sat there while she was gone, trying to process what had just happened. 

When she returned, it was with a tape measure and a notebook. “I’m going to take some measurements, okay?” 

“I do not need your help,” he insisted. He’d been without help in the Horde, and he’d still managed to survive. 

Entrapta put her hands on her hips. “Everyone needs help from time to time. And you don’t need to be perfect to have worth. Take Emily, for example.” 

“Who?” 

Entrapta gestured to the corner of Hordak’s living room, where a very fluffy one-eyed white Maine Coon was curled up and looking at him. “Emily was born with one eye, so the breeder was going to throw her out onto the street, but I took her in instead. And sure, she doesn’t have depth perception, her front left paw is a bit weak, and her meows are really loud, but she’s the best pet I’ve ever had. There’s nothing wrong with imperfection. If it weren’t for imperfection, some of the greatest science breakthroughs in history might never have happened.” Entrapta straightened, lit from behind by the morning sun streaming through the windows. “I think imperfection is beautiful.” She paused. “Can you stand? I kind of need you to stand so I can take the measurements.” 

After a brief hesitation, Hordak stretched out his hand so that she could help him up. With that done, Entrapta positioned his arms, and started taking measurements and writing them in her notebook. She touched him in a way that was neither too rough nor overly delicate. It was a refreshing break from both his father’s beatings and the way that everyone else seemed to act as if he were made of glass. 

“And you really shouldn’t obsess over the idea of curing yourself. Some conditions can’t be cured. All you can do is find a way to live with it. And, I mean, I’m autistic. It means that I’m not always great at talking to people, but that doesn’t mean I need a cure. Plenty of people out there think I should be cured, but I don’t have to believe what they say.” A brief flash of sadness passed over her face. “And sure, maybe I’ll never quite fit in with other people, but that doesn’t mean I should just give up on having friends or being happy.” She was smiling again. 

A few more measurements and she was done. “There. It might take a few prototypes, but I’m confident that I can make something better than what you’ve got.” 

It seemed useless to try and reject her offer. And in spite of the way his father always said that the uncomfortable braces were a punishment for his inadequacies, Hordak did like the idea of braces that fit. “I… Thank you. That is – very kind of you.” 

She smiled at him again. “No problem!” 

And then she scooped Emily up under one arm and whirled out of his apartment. 

Hordak sat down on the sofa slowly, put the rest of his braces on slowly, stood, walked slowly over to Imp’s cage. 

As he was feeding the parrot, who squawked appreciatively at the birdseed, Hordak looked at Imp and said, “What just happened to me?” 

Later, when he went to shower, he discovered that Entrapta had built his bed. 

* 

Entrapta liked Hordak. She liked the way he talked to her with respect, and the way he would listen to her ramble about mechanics for hours. Actually listen, not just nod and smile until she shut up. He had some knowledge of mechanics, so he knew what she was talking about. 

He was fast becoming her closest friend. 

Sometimes, it was obvious that he’d been through something tough with the Horde. The braces she’d made for him had clearly been an improvement on his old ones. They fit better, supported his muscles more, and were definitely more comfortable. 

It was clear from the way he thanked her that he wasn’t used to kindness. He’d offered to pay her for her work, and she’d refused. Really, the opportunity to design and make the braces had been reward enough, but after some insistence she had let him pay her back for the materials she’d used. 

Unlike many people, Entrapta found it easy to spend time with him. It didn’t tire her out the way it usually did. 

They were sitting on his sofa, watching _How It’s Made_ , when he cleared his throat and said, “My father’s trial starts next week.” 

“Oh.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She did that quite often. He had excellent cheekbones. “How do you feel about that?” 

He hunched his shoulders. “Apprehensive. I’m one of the main witnesses, and it will be the first time he’s seen me since I ran away.” 

She patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be alright in the end. The trial might be hard, but at the end of it he’ll be in prison and he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.” 

Hordak had never been specific about the ways in which his father had hurt him. Entrapta knew what the burns on his body were from – Catra and Scorpia had them too, though their scars weren’t quite as pronounced – but there were other things. Like the way he flinched whenever a door slammed. 

In Entrapta’s opinion, he needed time. Time to figure himself out. He was getting better at it; seeing a therapist and a physical therapist. Really starting to look after himself. 

He’d be okay. 

* 

On the evening of the last day of Horde Prime’s trial, Entrapta found Hordak lying on his sofa, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to the courtroom; a black suit with a black shirt and a red tie. As much as skirts were more comfortable for him, he had known that he would command more respect in a suit. 

He had untied the tie, and undone the top few buttons of his shirt, giving her a view of his collarbones. One arm was draped over his eyes. He looked exhausted. 

She sat down next to his head. “How do you feel?” 

“Drained.” A pause. “They found him guilty.” said Hordak softly. “He’s going to prison for… not for the rest of his life, more’s the pity, but a significant portion of it nonetheless. And once he’s out, I can have a restraining order against him. He will never go near me again.” 

“Well, that’s good, right?” As much as Entrapta knew that this was the outcome Hordak had wanted, he didn’t look very happy about it. 

“Yes. But some part of me still feels like a traitor. When they called him to speak, he acted as if he was just giving another sermon. He told the whole courtroom that I was too corrupt to ever find salvation. I don’t believe any of that, of course; I’m not religious anymore. But it still hurt to hear him say it. And afterwards, getting out of the court, the journalists were everywhere, asking about my childhood, asking about my disability… Some of them chased after the taxi as I was driven away.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Entrapta. “Later, I can make us some soup.” Soup always made her feel better. 

“Yes, that would be nice.” Oh a whim, Entrapta reached out with one hand and started slowly stroking his hair. It was very soft. He flinched, at first, but after a few moments he closed his eyes and murmured, “Keep doing that.” 

“Hey,” said Entrapta, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

Hordak opened his eyes and looked up at her. “As me what?” She was still stroking his hair. 

“Well, because of their time in the Horde, Adora and Catra and Scorpia never got to have a prom when they finished highschool, so Perfuma and Frosta decided that it would be nice to throw a party so that they can have a kind of late prom. Everyone’s going to dress up and there’ll be music. I was going to go anyway because of the canapes, but then I thought, you probably didn’t get to have a prom either.” 

“No,” said Hordak, “I didn’t. Parties were forbidden in the Horde.” 

“Well, then I think you should come too. It might be nice. And if you don’t want to dance then we can just watch everyone else, like a social experiment.” 

Hordak was silent for a while as he considered her offer. “Very well. But I might need to spend some time sitting down. And I probably won’t dance. I have never danced before.” 

“Great. I’ll tell Perfuma that you’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imp is a parrot! Emily is a fluffy cat! Hordak gets new braces and a fancy suit!
> 
> Prime is in prison!
> 
> They’re going to prom!


	3. Chapter 3

Hordak had never bought nice clothes for himself before. 

In the Horde, he’d worn the same thing as everyone else, and when he got free, he’d mainly focused on buying comfortable clothes that would fit over his braces. When he bought the suit for his trial, he had been trying to look like a respectable witness, and also trying to distance himself from his father’s colours of white and green. 

But for the prom, he could wear whatever he wanted. 

He couldn’t bear the idea of the stares he’d get if he went shopping, so instead he ordered online. 

The gown he found was perfect; black and slim-fitting, slit up one side, with sheer black gossamer around the collar and a red-lined cape. He wasn’t quite confident enough to show off the braces on his arms and the vitiligo that ran from his shoulders to his wrists, so he’d also bought long black fingerless gloves, which covered most of it. 

He would have liked to complete the look with high heels, but he didn’t trust his legs enough for that, so he went for shoes with a one-inch heel instead. Less elegant, but better for his ankles in the long-term. 

For the first time in, well, ever, he looked in the mirror and liked what he saw. 

The man reflected back at him was a vision in black, his dark hair perfectly styled and his eyeshadow immaculately applied. The dress hugged his figure, drawing attention to his slim waist and broad shoulders. He’d been wary about buying something with a slit up the side – it would mean showing the braces on his lower legs – but his thighs were the only part of him that didn’t need a brace, so why shouldn’t he show them off? 

Hordak gave himself a small smile in his bedroom mirror before he left the apartment to meet Entrapta. 

* 

She was wearing a purple three-piece suit that was a few shades darker than her hair. When he arrived in the corridor, Hordak was pretty sure he saw her eyes travel the length of his body and back again. 

“You look nice,” she blurted. 

“As do you,” he replied smoothly, putting his front door key in his black clutch. He gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?” 

* 

They travelled there in Entrapta’s car, which she had affectionately named Darla. Hordak had thought that its dark grey paint job was surprisingly sedate for something that Entrapta owned, until he saw the electric blue seats. 

Apparently Entrapta had made many modifications to the car, and she listed a few of them as they drove to the small community centre that had been rented out for the prom. 

It was decorated tastefully; Perfuma worked as a florist, and Frosta carved ice sculptures for a living, so both flower arrangements and ice sculptures were dotted around the room. 

Music was playing. There had been no music permitted in the Horde, so Hordak didn’t recognise the artist, but he found himself liking the rhythm of it. 

A few heads had turned when they entered, and for a moment his stomach twisted with anxiety. He had no idea how Adora, Catra, and Scorpia were going to react to seeing Horde Prime’s son again. 

But then Scorpia walked over, and she was just as awkward at talking to him as ever, and Hordak thought that perhaps this prom had been a good idea after all. 

Things were easier once he realised that nobody wanted to talk about the Horde; instead, they talked about what they had done since they got out. 

Adora and Catra were now officially together, and had got an apartment a few minutes’ walk from Angella’s place. Adora was working as a personal trainer, and Catra had become a terrifyingly efficient journalist. 

Scorpia, meanwhile, was working at a daycare. It turned out that she was good with kids. 

Hordak told them a little of his own plans. He’d decided to give up on curing himself, and instead he was focusing on his love of mechanics. He had a few designs for low-emissions car engines that he was planning on patenting soon. 

Not that he needed the money. Perhaps he could donate a portion of it to charity. 

The rest of the evening turned in a whirlwind of friendly conversation. Entrapta was enjoying herself too, but sometimes the number of people in the room got overwhelming for her, so she’d sequester herself behind one of the room’s pillars with a few morsels of tiny food. 

Later on, people started dancing. 

Hordak watched them from his position by the wall and considered joining in, but he swiftly realised that, even with his braces, the steps of the dance weren’t something that he’d ever be able to replicate. Not without one of his knees giving out. 

The final straw came when he watched Adora lift Catra fully into the air, as if she weighed nothing. The two of them were gazing at each other ardently, and Hordak found himself feeling… alone. 

He swept out of the room in a gust of black silk. 

The community centre had a deck outside its back door, overlooking a small garden, and Hordak leaned against the railing as he listened to the slightly muffled music and watched the fireflies dance about the garden. The fresh air was soothing, but it didn’t quite quash the loneliness that had begun to open a chasm inside his chest. 

He remembered what his therapist had told him, and took a gentle breath, then let it out slowly. 

“Err, Hordak?” 

He turned, one hand still on the wooden railing. “Entrapta? I was just getting some air.” 

“Okay.” She squared her shoulders. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance.” 

“I…” It wasn’t about wanting. It was about whether he could actually, physically do it. “Even with the braces you made me, the beat is a little too fast for me right now.” 

“Oh, okay. Be right back!” She dashed inside. 

After a moment, the music changed to something with a slower beat. 

Entrapta slipped out of the back door, and asked, “Is this better for you?” 

“I – yes, I suppose it is.” 

“Great.” 

She took a step towards him. It was only as she drew closer that he realised what she intended. There was plenty of time to stop her, but he didn’t want to stop her. 

She took one of his hands in hers, and put her other hand on his waist. Hordak put his free hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t sure if it was the right place, but it didn’t seem too far wrong, and then they were dancing. 

Not properly dancing; Hordak didn’t know what sort of moves were meant to go with this kind of music, so it was mostly just swaying on the spot. It was… nice. 

Entrapta’s hand was warm in his. She was so much shorter than him, but it didn’t seem to matter very much right now. 

They were still swaying. 

“Entrapta?” he said softly. 

“Yes?” 

“The music has stopped.” 

She blushed. “Oh, right.” 

They stopped swaying, but neither pulled away. 

Then Entrapta stretched up on her toes. Hordak bent down to meet her. 

It was his first kiss, soft and warm. Everything he did was based off instinct, guesswork. He tilted his head to get the angle right. 

They kept kissing. Entrapta was smiling against his mouth. Hordak slid his hand down from her shoulder to rest on her waist. His other hand cupped her face. She brought one of her hands up to the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. 

Scorpia’s voice cut through their reverie. “Hey, Entrapta, you out here?” 

Hordak pulled back slightly. “Go to her,” he whispered, smiling. “I’ll still be here when you get back.” 

Entrapta grinned up at him, kissed his cheek, and went to find Scorpia. 

Hordak pretended not to notice the way she nearly tripped over her own feet as she crossed the threshold back indoors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entrapta is just… falling all over Hordak in this chapter (sometimes literally) and I loved writing it.
> 
> Hordak and Entrapta’s outfits are obviously inspired by the art that Rae Geiger did of them at Princess Prom.
> 
> And dancing. Because dancing is nice.


End file.
